


Stay Close, Little Brother

by redtodd



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cass is a Good Sister TM, Fluff, Gen, Sibling Bonding, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtodd/pseuds/redtodd
Summary: “What? It’s true!"“But you shouldn’tsayit,” Cass says.“What happened tofreedom of speech?”“Freedom of speechis... not for little brothers,” Cass says seriously, and after quick consideration she pokes his cheek.Or, Damian breaks his leg and bonds with his sister.





	Stay Close, Little Brother

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to mid, @roselahlonde on tumblr, for beta-ing this ♡

Damian is sprawled on the bed, trying with all his might to ignore the world around him and the plain blue cast on his leg (a recent result of _reckless behaviour_ — his father’s words), when the door knocks. He muffles a groan by shoving his face in Alfred’s soft fur, fingers of his good hand gripping the bedsheets, and he’s fully prepared to ignore whoever is on the other side of the door. He’s in no mood to _talk_ , let alone deal with his eldest brother’s _coddling_. To think that Grayson would have given up after the first six times Damian’s ignored him.

Apparently not, and three sharp knocks later Damian groans again, this time making sure to turn his face so he’s heard when he calls out, “ _Go away._ ”

He waits, ears straining for sounds of fading footsteps, but the words have the opposite effect, and a moment later the door is pushed open, and light from the hallway streams through the crack and into the dark room. Scowling, Damian lifts his head and turns to the door, squinting at the slight figure in the doorway. _Not Grayson, then._

“You’re awake,” his sister’s words are an observation, not a question. Cassandra steps into the room, head tilting as Damian sighs and lets himself fall back into the bed, bringing his hands up to rub over his face. Alfred meows.

“Yes, Cassandra?” Damian finally asks, words muffled.

“Alfred made cookies, come.”

Damian tuts, glancing at her still figure in the doorway. He’s not going to let her tempt him into leaving his room and _talking to his family_ instead of _ignoring them_ with the prospect of Pennyworth’s confectionaries.

Damians sinks further into the bed. “No.”

“Damian, come.”

Alfred meows again before uncurling and jumping off the bed, and Damian watches through his fingers as his cat trots across the floor to rub his head against Cassandra’s shin before slipping between her legs and out the door.

“Traitor,” Damian hisses. His sister stares at him with no intentions of leaving.

He huffs and rolls over, back to her. It’s going to take more than _cookies_ to convince him of leaving his bed, however good the cookies are and despite how hungry he is. His stomach gurgles in disagreement, and he frowns. Come to think of it, he hasn’t eaten since his eldest brother had brought him sandwiches and a juice box two visits ago.

“Fine.”

Damian huffs as he sits up, and Cassandra’s lips curl into a smile. She steps further into the room, the door opening wider and allowing more light in behind her. He’s toying with the idea of foregoing his crutches and chancing the stairs when Cassandra holds them out to him, a knowing look in her eyes. Damian glares at both his sister and his crutches before he slides to the edge of the bed and takes them from her hands with another huff, lips turned down distastefully at having to rely on _plastic rods_ to do something as simple as walk.

“Well, lead the way.”

Cassandra walks at a slower pace to match his as he hobbles alongside her, gracefully ignoring his scowl as they make their way down the hallway, past the closed doors of their brothers’ rooms and down the stairs. The smell of baked goods wafts through the air.

They’re at the bottom of the staircase when she lays her hand on his arm and steers him away from the kitchen and towards the family living room, and dread fills him along with realisation. _She could have at least let him have his cookies before taking him to the lions’ den!_

He glares at her, considers squirming away and making a run for it, but quickly lets go of the idea. Cassandra can best him any day of the week, and with his broken leg and bruised ribs, his sister would have no problem whatsoever dragging him back in there and making him sit through Grayson’s _hovering._

He does walk slower though, and he doesn’t miss the amused smile on Cassandra’s face when she notices.

They’re in the doorway when Damian considers it’s far too quiet for the family to be inside, but he overlooks it, having already decided to stubbornly ignore their presence and overall existence until he can go back up to his room without his father hounding him to take a break from brooding, regardless of how many times he says he’s _not_ brooding.

Cassandra tugs on his arm.

The pair walk inside and Damian’s preparing for the worst, can already feel a headache forming, can almost _hear_ Todd and Drake’s arguments and father’s tired sighs and Thomas’ _“is this normal?”_ — _except._

Except the living room is empty and quiet but for them and the sound of their footsteps. The ambush he’d expected doesn’t come, and he relaxes his tense shoulders before looking up at his sister with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Where is everyone?”

Cassandra shrugs, smile still on her face. “Dick went to see Wally. I think Tim and Duke are out.”

“Everyone else?”

Cassandra shrugs again.

Damian turns back to the room, for the first time noting the pile of blankets and pillows peeking over the back of the couch, the only thing out of place in the otherwise pristine chamber.

Cassandra nudges his shoulder before she lets go of his arm and moves towards the couch and said pile.

“If you’ve brought me here to _sleep_ , I assure you, I could have done so in the comfort of my own room.” Nevertheless he follows his sister, though at a slower pace, to stand in front of the couch, warily eyeing the pile.

Shaking her head, Cassandra gestures where the coffee table has been pushed aside and the other couch and loveseats pushed close together. “No, we’re going to — build a fort.”

She smiles at his furrowed brows.

Readjusting his grip on his crutches, Damian looks at his sister, then back to the pile, and to his sister once more. “What?” his voice breaks and he winces, grateful that his brothers aren’t there to mock something he has no control over. Damian clears his throat and tries again. “Why?”

“Dick said it’s what — it’s something big sisters do with little brothers.”

Damian bites back an instinctive _‘I’m not little!’_ and prods at the blankets with one of his crutches. “Then why not do it with Drake and Thomas, or even _Todd_?”

Cassandra tilts her head. “Tim is busy, and Duke picks terrible, _old_ movies. And Jay is… not around.”

Damian stares.

Cassandra sighs, shrugs and offers a “Steph said it will make you stop being grumpy.”

 _Brown. Of course she’s behind all_ this _._

“I’m not grumpy,” he mutters, kicking at the ground with his good, socked foot. Aloud, he asks, “And if I refuse?”

“Come, Dami, don’t be a… a buzzkill.”

Damian purses his lips. Cassandra looks at him, all wide eyes and so earnestly that he finally nods with a sigh, overlooking the use of the shortened version of his name. “Fine, just — tell me what to do.”

With a smile and after ruffling his hair, Cassandra sets off to the task, handing Damian pillows that he stacks over his arms as she pulls the blankets off of the couch. It’s easy enough, building the fort, and with Cass spreading the blankets over the tops of the seats and Damian setting the pillows on the floor when instructed to, they finish up quickly.

Looking over what had been the family living room, but what is now a quite impressive blanket fort, Damian lets his lips tug into a smile as Cass nudges her shoulder against his, her own face lit with a proud smile.

“We did it,” his older sister holds out a fist to him, and Damian shifts his weight onto his crutches to bump his own fist against hers.

With a bow, Cass bends to lift the edge of one blanket up to reveal the inside of their creation, where she’d set her phone face down on a pillow to the side, the flash turned on to provide a light source.

“My lord,” Cass pauses, nose scrunched as she enunciates the words carefully and in an accent resembling Pennyworth’s — but only just. “I expect you shall find your… lodgings to be of comfort.”

Grinning, Damian nods his head low, as much of a bow as he can muster with his bruised ribs. “Why, my lady, please accept my most sincere thanks.”

The siblings stare at each other, eyes bright with amusement, before Cassandra erupts into quiet laughter, prompting a smile from the twelve year old.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Cass stifles her laughter behind one scar-riddled hand. “ _I’m good_. Okay, hand me your crutches.”

Damian does, shifting his weight onto his good leg and hopping to where Cass stood, taking hold of her offered hand with a nod of thanks. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but with the help of his sister Damian manages to get under the blankets and settled on the pillows comfortably, his broken leg propped up on a pillow. Cass peeks her head in.

“You good?” Damian nods. “Good. You — just wait here.”

Damian nods again, albeit with no small amount of confusion, as Cass ducks out, the blanket falling back into place with her retreat, covering the makeshift exit. Sighing, Damian leans back into the many pillows behind him, eyes flitting around, focusing on nothing in particular — the neon coloured band-aids on his fingers and arms, the crude drawing of what _might_ be Robin on his cast (courtesy of Grayson), the shadows playing on the walls of their fort.

He hears Cass’ muffled footsteps outside their fort, and a moment later she’s pushing the blanket to the side and carefully shuffling inside on her knees, a plate of Pennyworth’s cookies in one hand, her laptop under her arm and what looks to be a string of lights set around her shoulders.

“I have what we need!” Cass announces, handing Damian the plate and setting her laptop on the ground. Damian nibbles on a cookie as his sister takes the lights off from around her shoulders and lays them out. At his inquisitive look, she explains, “Fairy lights — Dick said they’re good for forts.”

He has to agree when she turns off her phone and lights them up, giving the inside of their fort a soft golden glow. Nodding at her work, Cass finally settles down next to Damian, shoulders pressed together as she takes the offered cookie with a smile. She boots up the laptop as she munches on her cookie, setting it on her lap. 

“What do you want to watch?”

Damian shrugs, head falling onto Cass’ shoulder as he eyes the screen. “Don’t have anything in mind. You?”

Cass shakes her head slightly before turning the laptop to him. “Pick a movie — something _good_.”

Damian hums before scrolling through the list on the screen, chewing on his cookie thoughtfully. He recognises some, from movie nights with Grayson, Thomas and, occasionally, Cass and Brown. Others he’s listened to Colin talk about for days on end. “This one is good.”

Cass nods, grabbing another cookie from the plate and speaking through a mouthful. “Mhm, put it on.”

The pair lean back into the pillows and Cass pushes the laptop off her lap and further away from them as the movie starts. “Did you watch it? Before?”

“No, but Colin’s talked about it enough that I might as well have,” there’s a small smile toying at his lips at the memory of his friend’s excited chatter, all grins and bright eyes and _‘Damian we would totally be drift compatible, I’m telling you’_ , whatever _that_ means.

“Oh. It’s starting now, hush.”

Damian eats another cookie to smother a smile at the serious look she throws his way and burrows further back into the pillows.

When Pennyworth lifts the side of one blanket halfway through the movie he finds the pair wrapped up in blankets, plate quite literally licked clean from the cookie crumbs. Damian looks up from where he’s lying on the floor, his head in his sister’s lap and her hand softly petting his hair as the movie plays, and Pennyworth smiles at the sight they make.

“Miss Cassandra, Master Damian, I see you’ve settled in quite nicely.”

There’s a plate of sandwiches and two glasses of milk on the tray in Pennyworth’s hands, and upon further inspection it’s apparent that the butler’s made the siblings _their_ sandwiches — nutella and bananas on grilled challah bread for Damian, peanut butter and jelly with mustard for Cass.

Cass smiles as Pennyworth sets down the tray, pointedly ignoring Damian scrunching his nose in disgust at her choice in sandwich fillings. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Damian’s attention is already back to the movie, but he manages a distracted _‘thank you’_ of his own. His attention may be elsewhere, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost his manners.

“No trouble at all,” Pennyworth smiles once more. He stands there for a while longer, and Damian thinks he wouldn’t be surprised if the old butler would leave and return with a camera. He doesn’t, though, merely smiles at them before leaving with a parting _“enjoy your movie”_ , and Damian isn’t quite sure whether it’s relief or disappointment he feels when Pennyworth doesn’t make a reappearance with a camera.

“Your taste buds must hate you,” Damian states once they’re alone again. “That is if you haven’t completely obliterated them yet.”

If Cass rolls her eyes he can’t tell from his position, but he likes to think that he knows her well enough to know that she _does._ She _does_ give a light shove to his shoulder before reaching for her abomination of a sandwich, though, and he allows himself a private smile at her indignant tone when she replies, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I am correct and you know it,” he grabs the plate and pulls it closer to him, eyeing his own sandwich appreciatively before he continues with his proclamation. “Mustard does  _not_ belong on that sandwich — even _Todd_ agrees with me.” _Which in itself is scarce,_ he doesn’t say.

“ _Tim_ thinks it’s good!” Cass argues.

“Drake is a disgraceful barely-human-being who drinks _red bull_ and _coffee_ — _mixed together_ ,” Cass must find his rant amusing because she sets her sandwich down to stifle her laughter behind one hand, the other still in Damian’s hair. He continues, undeterred. “He has _ill judgement, nonexistent taste buds, and possible future food poisoning due to terrible life choices._ ”

Cass pushes at his shoulder again.

“What? It’s true!”

“But you shouldn’t _say_ it,” Cass says.

“What happened to _freedom of speech?_ ”

“ _Freedom of speech_ is... not for little brothers,” Cass says seriously, and after quick consideration she pokes his cheek.

Damian swats at her hand, nose scrunched. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

Damian glances at the screen at a loud screech before turning back to his sister and declaring, “I want you impeached.”

Cass frowns, seemingly considering what he’s said, before she comes to the very mature decision of _sticking her tongue out at him_.

Damian sputters, incredulous. “Are you five?”

“And a half,” Cass says back, grin on her face. Damian laughs, quick and surprised, before shaking his head.

“We’re missing the movie,” Damian says. Cass flicks her finger against his forehead, gently.

“Okay, okay.”

They settle back to watch the movie, and Damian glances up at Cass for the briefest moment — takes in her pleased smile, and a small, timid smile of his own slides onto his face.

“Watch,” Cass admonishes in a whisper. She brushes hair out of his eyes with careful fingers and Damian huffs and turns his attention back to the movie, smile not dropping.

The credits are rolling and Damian is fighting off sleep when Cass speaks up again. “Are you cheered up now?”

He stifles a yawn that has his eyes tearing up and nods his head sleepily. He holds back a ‘ _I wasn’t grumpy in the first place’,_ knowing it isn’t particularly true, and instead says, “We should… do this again.”

He’s too tired to roll over onto his back to look at his sister when he replies, but he can see her smile out of the corner of his eye. He pulls the blanket around him tighter, a small smile on his face. It’s not often he spends _quality time_ with one of his siblings, and even then it more often than not ends up with arguments if not attempts at bodily harm, so this is… _nice_. The serenity, the banter, the laughter — even building their fort had been _fun_.

“We should,” Cass agrees, letting out a huff of air that could be a laugh at his second, louder, yawn. She shifts to close the laptop screen and a second later his eyes flutter shut when she strokes his hair, a pleasant warmth spreading honey-slow through his chest.

“Sleep,” Cass tells him. He shakes his head the slightest bit, stubborn as always, although he can already feel his consciousness ebbing away. Cass’ hand stills in his hair. She shifts again, and her breath is warm against his face and her hair tickles his ear, and after a moment she presses her lips to his temple in a quick, hesitant kiss.

“Sleep, little one,” she murmurs, leans back.

Cass hums — a tune, soft and sweet, and Damian falls asleep.


End file.
